


There’s Hell Fire At The End Of The Tunnel

by Snowfluff



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 15:08:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snowfluff/pseuds/Snowfluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets sick and Sam takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There’s Hell Fire At The End Of The Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

> Warning- Gets a little sad at the end.

It started on a simple enough ghoul hunt. Everything had seemed to be okay, nothing out of the ordinary, but then Dean had just stood there staring off into the distance as the thing lunged at him, forcing Sam to step in and finish the thing off before it had the chance to rip Dean’s face off. “Just checking your reflexes, Sammy.” He had said. Sam didn’t think too much about it at the time, and was just glad they had finally ganked the thing. But after they got back, Sam wished he had paid more attention to Dean’s odd behavior.

Dean was shuffling through the men of letters bunker, seemingly aimless; and had been for at least the last few hours. God know how long he had been doing it before Sam noticed.

“Everything okay, Dean?” Sam was sitting in the library when Dean came shuffling through, his forth pass in the last hour, he stopped abruptly.

Dean sluggishly turned to look at Sam; he blinked a few times before mumbling “What?”

“Is everything okay?” Sam asked again, finally looking up at his confused brother, bitch face in place before he could stop it “You’ve just been wandering all day, didn’t even bother getting dressed…” He vaguely waved a hand to the sweat pants and faded t-shirt Dean was wearing. Dean blinked again, and then looked at what he was wearing, like he only just realized he hadn’t changed when he got up. “Why wouldn’t everything be okay?” he seemed to snap himself out of whatever daze he was in a little “What time is it?” he looked around the room like he just noticed where he was.

Sam stared at his bewildered brother “It’s half past noon…”

Dean looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language “Noon…? How long have I been up?” Dean wandered a little closer and leaned on the chair across from Sam, Sam noticed he was swaying a little- like he might pass out. He pushed the ping worry away and gave Dean a skeptical look, raising an eyebrow “how the hell should I know?” he said confused, he was debating if he should break out the sliver and holy water or the thermometer and Tylenol.

“Right… right.” Dean muttered and bit his bottom lip slightly. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something but stopped and just stared blankly into space for a moment before muttering something about being tired and going to bed. That was good Sam supposed. He looked like he needed some sleep; besides all the aimless wandering was really distracting.

 

Dean wandered into the kitchen late next day, still looking spaced out and confused but he got dressed this time at least. Well more or less- he was barefoot and only one sleeve of his flannel was rolled up, _but he was dressed_. Sam was leaning against the counter with his coffee “Morning sleeping beauty.” Sam greeted.

Dean looked startled, like he didn’t even noticed Sam was there “…’Mornin.” he muttered and looked away as he foraged for a coffee mug, Sam didn’t fail to notice how quiet and ruff his voice was.

“You feel better today?” Sam took a swig of his own coffee, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

“Feel better today…” Dean mused, biting his lip “Why do you ask?”

“What do you mean ‘why do you ask’? You wandered around in your jammies yesterday being all spacey and confused, and then went to bed.”

“Huh.” Dean said, voice still quiet and full of gravel as he nursed at the coffee he acquired for himself. “Don’t even remember.” His voice cracked as he spoke, he jumped slightly and cringed, evidently caught off guard at how high his own voice was.

“That’s weird…” Sam said, sure, it _was_ weird Dean didn’t remember but also the he squeaked as he said it, and that was _definitely_ weird. Funny, but weird. He would have laughed if he wasn’t suddenly worried. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”  Sam glared “Not sick or anything are you…” It wasn’t really a question but Dean answered it anyway.

“I’m not sick.” Dean tried to roll his eyes but it ended up being pretty pathetic and ducked his head away; obviously hoping Sam would leave him alone about it.  Like Sam would _honestly_ take his word for it and let it go.

“Dean…” Sam said menacingly, leveling his best threatening bitch face at his older brother. He put down his coffee and took a few steps closer to Dean, he hadn’t really noticed form across the room but Dean was pale, his cheeks flushed red, dark bags under his glassy and foggy eyes - he looked like hell. ‘ _Not sick my ass.’_ Sam thought as he gave his brother a once over and leveled him with an ‘I’m so on to you’ bitch face. Dean stared at him uncomprehendingly, obviously trying to decipher the look on his little brothers’ face. Sam felt the same small spike of worry rise in his gut; he tried to shake it off as he looked at his brother “You sure you’re feeling okay?” Dean blinked at the concern on his face. He opened his mouth a few time to say something but evidently gave up and grew a sudden interest in his coffee.

“Dean…” Sam glared. Dean looked up at his face- or past his face him more accurately. Dean blinked a few times before answering him. If Sam wasn’t worried about him he would’ve smacked him. “I’m not sick, Sam.” He said stubbornly, trying to convince himself as much as Sam. He didn’t believe his own words so Sam defiantly wasn’t convinced. “Dean…” He said again, not bothering to hide the worry in his voice, he took an unsure step towed his brother, opening his arms in a pleading gesture. Dean blinked, surprised. He set his coffee down (Sam wished he didn’t see how badly Dean’s hands were shaking); Dean took a step forward, about to protest and froze. Sam leaped forward and caught his brother under his arms before he had time to think. “Dean!” a voice he distantly recognized as his own shouted. He cradled his older brother in his arms, panic overtaking his body. “Nngh” Dean slurred, attempting lazily to get his footing before going completely limp in Sam’s hold.

Sam didn’t have to check to know Dean’s fever was dangerously high, he could feel it as he dragged his unconscious brother into the bathroom. He striped him down to his boxers and man-handled him into the tub before turning on the faucet. He watched the cool water rise and couldn’t help but wonder if it could have been avoided if Dean had _said something_. He sighed and waited for Dean’s fever to break before drying him off and carrying him princess style to his room. After he got Dean thoroughly tucked into bed he checked his temperature and managed to get him to swallow some pills. Sam sat back into the chair at Dean’s desk and watched his brother sleep, he had never seen Dean so sick before, he was breathing raggedly and his temperature was still uncomfortably high, he was shivering and sweating and if he didn’t die Sam was going to kill him for not saying something before it got this bad. He toyed with the idea of taking Dean to the hospital just to piss him off but he decided that wasn’t worth the trouble.  Dean groaned and opened an eye, “Sam?” he asked timidly, struggling to push himself onto his elbows to sit up. “Whoa, whoa- I’m right here, okay? Just lay down, you need rest.” Sam said as he pushed his big brother back down into the bed. “m’sorry Sammy.” Dean slurred and nuzzled his face into the pillow. “Don’t apologize to me, you moron.” Sam sighed and ran a large moose hand though Deans damp hair. Dean made a small happy noise the back of his throat and passed out again. Sam hulled the desk chair to the side of the bed and slummed into it with a sigh. He drifted off rubbing circles into Deans back.

Sam wasn’t sure how long he’d slept exactly, but it was morning when he woke up. He sat up and rubbed his eyes a few time before looking around the room, not sure were or why he was there. He was used to waking up in the library from late night research or in his own room but this wasn’t his room or the library. No, this was…Dean’s room? Why was he in Dean’s room? He glanced over to Dean’s bed and found him passed out hard, skin deathly pale and cheeks red, he was breathing hard, the previous night hit Sam like a dick to the face. TRAIN. Like a _train_ to the face. Haha… like a train to the face… Sam shook his head and rested the back of his hand on Dean’s forehead to check his temperature. Sam sighed, stretching as his muscles threw a bitch fit at sleeping in a chair. He stood and wandered off to the kitchen in the never ending pursuit of coffee.

Sam returned about an hour later with an offering of food and coffee. Dean stirred as Sam set the tray down on the bed side table. “Dean?” Sam asked quietly “I brought food if you’re hungry.” Dean mumbled seeming indistinguishable and started trying to sit up. Sam sighed and grabbed Dean under his arms to help get him in a sitting position “How are you feeling, Dean?” Sam asked as Dean tried to pretend he wasn’t light headed. Dean looked at him and blinked a few times “I feel much better today.” Dean murmured. “Sam stared dubiously at him, raising an eyebrow “Why don’t I believe you?” he asked skeptically, Dean didn’t look any better if anything he actually looked _worse_. “Because you’re a disbelieving little shit.” Dean wheezed. Sam would’ve been glad at the witty remark if it didn’t sound so strained. Sam sighed “Eat your food. I’ll be back later with to check on you.” Dean nodded and grabbed the tray from the nightstand, he bit his lip and darted his eyes away “Sam, thanks, I mean it.” He timidly met Sam’s eye and smiled at him weakly. Sam returned the smile and left the room.

Sam came back later that day to find Dean hiding under the covers, tray left on the nightstand. Sam picked it up and grimaced at how little Dean ate. He started toward the door to put trey in the kitchen before a hand shoots out of the blanket catacomb to stop him. “Please stay, Sammy.” Dean pleaded desperately. Sam’s stomach dropped, this wasn’t right, Dean would never flat out ask Sam to stay with him, no matter how bad he wanted him to. Sam dropped the tray and pulled the blanket off his brother enough to see his face. Sam went pale, Dean’s skin was ashen and he was breathing erratically, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.  “Sammy, please.” Dean begged as he tightened his grip on Sam’s shirt. Sam felt like he might puke. He dropped onto the bed with Dean and pulled out his phone from his pocket. “Wadaya doin’?” Dean slurred “Calling you an ambulance.” Sam replied hastily. Dean looked at him for a second and closed his eyes, breathe slowing. He was gone by the time the paramedics got there.

Sam wished he had paid more attention to Dean’s odd behavior days prior.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to hell. I'm sorry.


End file.
